


that rush in my veins

by pechebaie



Series: TenSemiAtsuKita [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: <- one. one kiss <3, He/It Tendou Satori, He/They/She Kita Shinsuke, Hiking, Kissing, M/M, Miya Atsumu Has OCD, Multi, Semi Eita Has OCD, She/Her Gay Miya Atsumu, She/Her Gay Semi Eita, Tendou + Kita show up at the end briefly, Trans Character, it's not discussed but they are all trans. know this., nobody says ocd in the entire fic but it IS discussed and there are compulsions written about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:06:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29757993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pechebaie/pseuds/pechebaie
Summary: “Please. Please.” Atsumu’s voice comes just over Eita’s shoulder; she can feel her hovering. “I don’t wanna go alone… It’ll be fun, trust me!”Eita rolls her eyes. “If this is done before Satori gets back from its shift, I’ll go with you.”+++Semi and Atsumu go for a walk.
Relationships: Semi Eita/Miya Atsumu, Semi Eita/Tendou Satori/Miya Atsumu/Kita Shinsuke
Series: TenSemiAtsuKita [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2187120
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	that rush in my veins

**Author's Note:**

> this is both an effort for me to start writing again for fun, and a way for me to throw all of my haikyuu headcanons into one place... semi atsumu tendou kita my little pronoun users...
> 
> only possible warnings are discussion of cooking/food and atsumu mentions a hand injury that was self-inflicted
> 
> it's tagged but i'll put it here just in case: semi and atsumu both have ocd, intrusive thoughts are mentioned briefly and compulsions are written about <3 i DO have ocd. semi and atsumu are both she/her gays, tendou uses he/him and it/its, and kita uses he/him they/them and she/her. i DO use both she/her and it/its pronouns for myself as a gay men. <3

“Ya would think,” Atsumu says, draped over the back of a chair, “that after knowing Satori fer  _ so long _ , ya would’ve learned to just go with the flow more.”

Eita rolls her eyes. She doesn’t look up from chopping vegetables when she responds, “Don’t compare this to the kinda shit Satori gets up to.”

“Exactly!” There’s the sound of socks slipping on the wood floor, and then a poorly-concealed yelp from Atsumu as she presumably slips and tries to catch herself on the chair. “Yer  _ so _ right, Eita; this is totally tame in comparison. So we should do it.”

“I’m busy.” Eita moves on from cutting the carrots to the potatoes.

Atsumu groans. “‘Making dinner’ isn’t ‘busy’.”

“It literally is.”

“No, it’s not. Ya can finish that  _ after _ we go. It’ll only take, like, an hour.”

Eita uses a finger to push off small chunks of potato that have stuck to the surface of the kitchen knife. “Last time you said that, we were gone for six.”

“ _ Eita _ …” There’s the sliding sound again, and then a heavy  _ thud _ as Atsumu’s knees hit the floor. “Please. Please. Let Shin do the cooking ‘r somethin’.”

“Not gonna ask Shinsuke to cook when they’ve got two exams today.” The last potato. Eita halves it with a  _ chop _ . “Maybe if  _ you _ could cook, dinner prep would be done by now, and we could go on your… walk.”

“It’s a  _ hike _ .” Eita knows Atsumu’s rolling her eyes. She  _ knows _ . “And I  _ can _ cook.”

“Cup noodles isn’t cooking.”

Atsumu sputters. “It’s-! I can make rice!”

“Anybody can use a rice cooker, idiot.”

The sound of socked feet padding across the floor. Eita rolls her eyes and braces herself.

“Please. Please.” Atsumu’s voice comes just over Eita’s shoulder; she can feel her hovering. “I don’t wanna go alone… It’ll be fun, trust me!”

“If you touch me and I have to shower  _ again _ , there’ll be even less time for your walk,” Eita says, and then slides the potatoes off the cutting board and into a bowl with the rest of the vegetables to be added to the curry later. “Get me the pork out of the fridge.”

“Eita…” She’s sulking.

Eita rolls her eyes. “If this is done before Satori gets back from its shift, I’ll go with you.”

Atsumu straightens up so fast that Eita feels a puff of air against her bare neck from the rush of her pulling away. There’s the sound of body on counter, and she glances over her shoulder to see Atsumu rubbing the small of her back and grimacing, but her eyes are bright. Eita turns back to her cutting board quickly so Atsumu can’t catch her smiling.

They spend the next half hour preparing the rest of dinner together, Atsumu scrambling between the cabinet and the fridge and the counter while Eita does the real heavy lifting of the activity. Atsumu even offers to wash the dishes. Eita doesn’t think she’s ever seen her do that before.

By the time the vegetables and pork are back in the fridge and the spices are measured and set aside, it hasn’t even hit four in the afternoon yet. Satori’s supposed to be with his mentor for another three hours on Thursday’s, and Shinsuke’s second exam is at five, so neither of them will be home any time soon. And Eita will admit, she’s dying to stretch her legs a bit.

Eita goes through the familiar rituals of washing her hands - front to back, between her fingers, nails over each palm, thumbs, repeat five times - and shaking them out, drying them off on the towel hanging over the sink. “Let me get changed,” she says, and Atsumu looks momentarily like she’s going to collapse from excitement.

_ You remind me of a puppy sometimes _ , Eita thinks, shakes her head and goes to find some more outdoors-appropriate clothes.

She’d met Atsumu several times back in high school, something that would’ve been difficult to avoid considering they were both setters on powerhouse teams. She remembers how much of an asshole she was, remembers wanting to aim serves at the back of her head at a particular training camp her second year. Running into Shinsuke in a literature lecture a year ago and finding out they were  _ dating _ had been a complete shock, considering Shinsuke is Shinsuke, and Atsumu is … well, Atsumu. But when Eita had (begrudgingly) agreed to a double-date halfway through the semester, she’d been pleasantly surprised by how much Atsumu had mellowed out. Especially considering the same can’t really be said about Satori.

Eita changes into a pair of busted old jeans, a light t-shirt, and a windbreaker, grabbing a pair of sturdier boots than she usually wears out of the closet. Actually, she’s half sure they’re Shinsuke’s boots, but they wear the same shoe size anyway.

Atsumu is already standing by the front door, boots and jacket on and house keys hanging from her index finger, buzzing.

“You  _ really _ wanna go,” Eita says, pulling her arms through the sleeves of her jacket.

“Feels like I haven’t been out of the house in forever,” Atsumu says, even though this is her first day off from practice all week.

Eita snorts, but says nothing.

Outside, the wind bites a bit at Eita’s cheeks and nose, but it’s not unpleasant. She has one hand in her jacket pocket and the other is tangled with one of Atsumu’s. Atsumu gestures with her free hand as she goes on about something that happened at practice with one of the older hitters, but Eita’s only half-listening, content just watching her boyfriend chatter excitedly.

Their schedules rarely match up, with Eita’s classes and Atsumu’s rough volleyball schedule, so it’s nice to spend time together, just the two of them. Atsumu is usually gone by the time Eita gets up, and asleep when she gets back from class. On these rare days off that they have, usually Eita spends her time recharging, working on music or taking her time with some coursework on her own. Atsumu- well, Eita’s not quite sure what Atsumu does in her free time, but she’s certain she must do  _ something _ .

But today they’d spent the morning watching a show with Satori before it’d gone to its apprenticeship, Eita simultaneously scrolling through social media on her phone, and then they’d eaten lunch together, and Atsumu had taken a nap, but it had been nice.

Eita values her alone time, but always, always she loves the time she gets to spend with her boyfriends. Atsumu, who wakes up at five almost every day to go into Osaka for practice, is  _ not _ a morning person, and Eita likes when she gets to wake up with an arm thrown over her stomach and Atsumu’s face in her neck, likes ruffling her hair while Atsumu blinks groggily up at her, grumpy. She likes cooking while Atsumu sits on her phone, or writing a paper on the couch with her legs thrown into Atsumu’s lap while she does something on her phone or watches TV.

Eita blinks at Atsumu in the sudden quiet, finds her looking back with pursed lips and a furrowed brow. “...What?”

“Yer not listenin’ to me,” says Atsumu. Not a question.

“Mm. I’m just thinking.”

“...About what?”

“Class,” Eita lies. Atsumu rolls her eyes, and Eita wants to hide her smile behind her hand.

“Yer always thinkin’ about class.”

“That’s ‘cause I’m paying for it,” Eita says.

“Well,” says Atsumu, “pay fer it less,” which doesn’t make any sense, but Eita doesn’t dwell on that as Atsumu grips her hand tighter and tugs her off the roadside path they’ve been on, into the field and toward the stretch of trees that borders the area.

“If we get lost, I’m killing you.”

Atsumu rolls her eyes again. “How are ya meant to find yer way back if I’m dead?”

“...I’ll figure it out.”

There actually are a few clear paths through the trees, probably Atsumu’s usual walking paths if Eita had to guess. Warm sunlight filters through the spring leaves, and sticks and tough chunks of dirt crunch beneath their boots. There are birds singing overhead, and Eita pauses to run a hand over the tough bark of a katsura tree.

It’s quiet, peaceful. Eita’s never really taken the time to rest outdoors and appreciate the rawness of untouched nature, and something about standing here in the quiet vibrations of the world with Atsumu’s hand in her own strikes her hard in the chest. For a moment, she finds it hard to breathe.

When she catches her breath, she says, “I wouldn’t expect you to like this kind of thing.”

Atsumu scowls. “ _ Trees _ ?”

“The quiet,” Eita clarifies.

“Mm…” Atsumu puts her free hand in the front pocket of her jeans and looks upward at the leaves and streaks of sunlight, rocks back onto her heels. “I started comin’ out here the summer after high school, when I was stayin’ with Shin an’ Kita-obaasan. When my intrusive thoughts would get really loud, I’d just come out and walk around all mad in the woods fer a bit ‘til they calmed down. An’ then my therapist said gettin’ outside alone was good fer me anyway, so I just kept doin’ it.” She pauses, and Eita watches the bands of sunlight dancing across her face. Compared to the nervous, excited energy she’d been carrying with her in the kitchen earlier, Atsumu looks strangely still. “Actually, the first time I was here I punched the shit out of one of the trees, but then my knuckles were bleedin’ and I freaked out and then Shin got mad at me fer it, so I didn’t do that again.”

“Shinsuke got mad at you?”

Atsumu snorts. “Not  _ mad _ , like… Ya know how she gets. When she’s like, ‘ya shouldn’t have done that, it’s bad fer ya or the environment’ or whatever.”

“Mm. That sounds like him.”

“What do ya mean,  _ sounds _ like-” Atsumu cuts herself off and scowls. “Right, I forgot,  _ I’m _ the only one Shin talks to like that.”

Eita rolls her eyes. “Because you don’t take care of yourself.”

“I do!”

“You can’t even cook.”

“Yes I can! I can make rice!”

“Mm. And cup noodles.”

“ _ And _ cup noodles!” Atsumu repeats. Then, “You’re laughing at me.”

Eita snorts. “I am  _ absolutely _ making fun of you, Tsumu, yes.”

“I helped cook today.”

“You measured spices.”

“ _ And _ got the pork out of the fridge!” Atsumu reminds her.

“That’s-” Eita has to stop herself from laughing at her. “Atsumu, that’s  _ not _ cooking.”

Atsumu glares at her. “It is. It  _ so _ is. I’ll text Aran  _ right _ now and he’ll tell me it’s cooking. Watch.”

“Aran-san and not your brother?” Eita raises an eyebrow, feels a grin pulling at the corners of her mouth at the huge, obvious bait she’s dangling in front of Atsumu right now. “You’re gonna ask the volleyball player and not the restaurant-owner and literal chef?”

Atsumu glares harder, nose scrunching up and upper lip starting to curl just a bit. “No, ‘cus Samu doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about, he’s a little shit and he hates me so he’s gonna say it’s not even though it  _ is _ .”

Atsumu lets go of Eita’s hand to pull her phone from her pocket, and this time Eita can’t hold back her laughter. “Wait- Tsumu, don’t actually-” She grabs Atsumu’s hands, laughing at her face and her determination to prove herself able to cook. There’s a lightness to Eita’s whole body when Atsumu rolls her eyes and kiss her. Atsumu’s lips are soft, and when they pull back she’s still scowling but Eita can see the corners of her eyes crinkling.

They finish their hike, Atsumu pointing out different plants and providing little tidbits of information on different birds Eita asks about. By the time they arrive home, the sun has started to dip low in the sky, gently kissing the curved edge of the Earth and bathing the landscape in a soft, orange glow. Shinsuke’s truck is in the driveway and the kitchen window is wide open, laughter fluttering outside.

Atsumu quickly slips out of her shoes on the porch, then helps Eita undo the nasty double-knots in her own laces. The soles are caked in mud and who knows what else, so they leave them out on the porch to be cleaned off later, then head in.

It’s Eita’s worst nightmare in the kitchen, Shinsuke standing at the stove making dinner despite having to be completely wiped from his exams, and Satori sitting with his socked feet up on the table.

“Oh, my god,” Eita says, because not only was she supposed to be the one making dinner, but now she’s going to be compelled to wash the table down several times before they can eat.

Shinsuke hums a greeting without looking away from his spot at the stove, and Atsumu swoops in to ruffle Satori’s hair as she’s been prone to do since he buzzed it and gives him a kiss right between his eyes.

“You two have fun?” Shinsuke asks, voice warm and smooth in the way that makes Eita’s knees particularly weak.

“Atsumu told me about how she used to punch trees,” Eita says.

“No!” protests Atsumu.

“Like Minecraft,” says Satori.

“ _ Not _ like Minecraft,” Atsumu insists. “It was  _ one _ time.”

“Yeah, I remember that one,” says Shinsuke, and Atsumu shuts up. “You go wash up; I’m almost done.”

“ _ I _ was gonna do that,” Eita grumbles.

“My exams finished early, so it’s no problem,” Shinsuke says. He looks over his shoulder at Eita, and then at Satori’s feet. “Do we need to wash the table?”

“Yes.” Eita’s already going over the ritual in her mind.

Satori pulls his feet off the table and stands, hands stuffed in the pocket of his sweatshirt. “Let me,” he says. “I’ve seen you do it enough; I can copy.”

Eita squints for a moment, pondering, before saying, “Five times.”

Satori grins. “I know,” he says. Salutes.

In the bathroom, Atsumu waits patiently while Eita washes her hands over and over (front to back, between her fingers, nails over each palm, thumbs) and shakes them out, dries them off. Then Eita watches Atsumu do the same, listens to her count to eight seven whole times, pats her hands dry on the decorative towels.

When she’s done, Atsumu looks up at Eita, something about her face strangely hesitant. “Ya never answered Shin’s question.”

Eita raises one eyebrow. “Their question?”

“...Did ya have fun?”

Eita rolls her eyes, lets her face relax into an exasperated smile. “Atsumu,” she says. “I always have fun when it’s you.”

**Author's Note:**

> i am trying to write something for this group every day for 31 days.. so <3 we'll see how that goes haha
> 
> i am on twitter [here](https://twitter.com/pechebaie), though i am more active on my [tumblr](https://shinsukekita.tumblr.com). i mostly RT/RB haikyuu, but i do occasionally post my art as well


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